Kachina
by Miratete
Summary: A wounded mystical being crawls out of an Arizona river and into the lives of two Navajo women.
1. Shot Down

Kachina

Chapter 1 – Shot Down

"Bruce! Take the wheel" Trakker ordered, unbuckling his seatbelt. "I'm going to stop that thing myself. And watch out for Mayhem. He's closing in on us."

Sato slid across the cab into Thunderhawk's driver's seat as Trakker fell out of the open doorway. The jet's course dipped momentarily as the change was made, but leveled again as Sato's hands closed on the wheel.

"Spectrum Hanglider! On!"

Trakker's entire body flared with energy discharge as the power of his mask slowed his fall to the ground, allowing him to glide gently downwards. The halo around him glowed brightly against the dark grey storm clouds creeping forward from the west.

"Heads up, Rax. One of them's coming right for you," came Mayhem's staccato voice over the radio. Through Switchblade's yellow windshield he could see one of the M.A.S.K agents descending straight toward the sonic drill below. The jet rocketed onwards, curving away to the south, back towards the canyon and back toward where Vanessa was attempting to escape, Gator in hot pursuit.

Trakker concentrated on his landing, coming down inside the fence of the installation. Shark pulled up on the opposite side of the fence and Baker hopped out, looking for a quick way through or over the fence. The locked gate hindered through and the coils of barbed wire atop the fence hindered over.

Dagger, standing guard over the installation atop the shorter canyon wall, began firing at her. As the blasts struck closer and closer, Baker dove for cover behind some large sandstone boulders.

"Watch it!" Rax snarled. "You might hit the drill." From the central control booth perched atop stilts next to the sonic drill he could see everything, including the grey-dressed MASK agent headed through the maze of pipes toward him.

"I won't. I'll be careful." And in his carefulness he managed to hit the chain link fence, blasting open a hole large enough for Baker to run inside.

Mayhem's hand fell to the missile control panel, targeted Thunderhawk, flipped open the display, and released two tracking missiles. "That ought to stop him."

Hunter's voice crackled over the intercom. "Mayhem's just launched two missiles at Thunderhawk."

"Thanks Brad. Taking evasive action now." Immediately the red car began to swerve lower, it's flight path veering right and left.

"Do what you can, Bruce. I'm going after that device before they can get it fully powered up."

"Will do, Matt." Even in the heat of battle, his voice was always calm. And then less than a minute later came a statement with a little less calmness to the tone. "Direct hit to the engine," Sato announced. "I'm going down."

"Hang in there, Bruce." Trakker's voice came back. "Dusty, anything you can do?"

"I've got him, Matt," called Baker. She stopped running toward the control booth to assist Trakker, but now braced herself against a hefty pipe and began tracking Thunderhawk's descent. "Aura! On!"

The bubble of repellant energy materialized just underneath Thunderhawk's path, slowing the car and bouncing it a bit higher.

Thunderhawk came down in a long arc toward the installation, a furious plume of black smoke belching from the rear jets. Sato fought the controls, trying to keep the vehicle from plummeting straight down, and with some luck and a couple of nudges from Baker's aura, he was able to crash into the river a few yards short of the cliff. The cold water engulfed and immediately extinguished the engine fire, but also threatened to drown the occupant. The river here was deep enough to cover most of Thunderhawk—only a few inches of air being left in the top of the cab. At least his mask was water-resistant for a few minutes of submersion. "Seatbelt off!" Sato commanded, but the seatbelt did not unlatch. He reached down into the cold water and found the release button. He crawled from the cab, surfaced underneath one of the wings, and looked about.

The flash of a laser cannon filled the sky above him, followed by the sound of the weapon being used against rock. At the sloping edge of the canyon above, he could see Dagger in the gunner's cockpit, firing blasts at the sheer wall opposite—the one towering over Thunderhawk.

Sandstone blocks began to tumble from above, splashing down into the river all around him. The laser's aim moved lower, blasting continuously at a large horizontal seam between the layers of sandstone. Sato's throat tightened as the huge mass of rock above the seam began to shift. Dodging falling boulders was not going to be enough. "Lifter! On!" Halos of light shot forth from his mask, hitting the cliff face and spreading around the enormous block that Dagger was attempting to dislodge. As the rock tipped forward Sato could suddenly feel the weight of the sandstone above him. What did it weigh? A hundred tons? A thousand tons? All he knew was that Lifter would not hold up long against the mass above him. He had to get away. He had to get out of the path that gravity had chosen.

Keeping a hold of Thunderhawk, he moved around to the back of the car, hooking on where he could find purchase with his hands and feet. The swift river currents threatened to drag him away. And then came the first twinge of burnout, that demand for energy tapped not from the mask's battery, but from his own body. It pulled subtly at first, but drew progressively stronger as the battery began to falter. Quickly he realized that his best option for escape would be to let the river carry him out of the way.

Looking downstream and positioning himself for a clean launch, he readied himself to let go. "Lifter's about to burn out. I'm going to swim for it."

"Get as far as you can before you shut off. That rock is huge!" called Baker.

Dagger, seeing that the agent in the water was keeping the rock from falling, aimed his guns at the agent below. Blasts shocked the water around him, and Sato let go, realizing it was now or never. As the river began to take him away, Lifter began to fail—the sensation of heat filling his mask, the battery indicator flashing frantically, the strain of keeping Lifter operational growing by the second.

The river dragged him away, his feet bumping along the riverbed, then suddenly falling away beneath him as he was pulled into a deeper section of water. The battery's beeper screamed in the throes of death and he terminated the beam. The canyon wall, a grand monolith of red sandstone perched above the river for thousands of years, suddenly roared and crashed down, crushing Thunderhawk and splashing up an huge wave of displaced water. He turned to face the downstream route just as the wall of oncoming water hit him.

"Bruce!" came several voices at once over the radio.

The turbulent water tumbled him over again and again, banging him against the sandy riverbed and into submerged boulders. After one hard knock his mask began to take on water. Eventually he was able to right himself and let the current carry him along, but here the canyon was narrower and there were no banks to land on. "I'm alive still" he announced.

"Bruce, hold tight,"came a garbled voice, but he could not tell whose.

He had fallen behind the huge surge and was able to keep upright, but the time in the cold water had started him shivering.

"I'll get to shore as soon as I can."

There was no response, save for a crackle of static.

"Can anyone hear me?"

Again a crackle of static.

"Anyone?"

He tried to find the bottom of the river with his feet, but could not.

"If you can hear me, I'm all right. I just have to get to land. I'll have to meet you downstream."

And at that point the current dragged him across something underwater, something sharp and painful.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Continued in Chapter 2 : Out of the River

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.


	2. Out of the River

Kachina

Chapter 2 – Out of the River

"Look...there's something on the sandbar there." Holly's finger pointed toward the river bend, where the water curved toward the far wall of the canyon in a deep bend, leaving a shallow rise of pebbles and sand behind. At the crest, tall grass had taken root. On the lee side, cattails grew in abundance. On the side of the approaching river, where larger debris sometimes washed up, a humanoid shape was struggling to rise.

Mamie latched the shed door and looked toward the river. "Yes. I see something. It looks like...like a man."

The two cousins had been working to batten down the farm before the storm hit. The April clouds loomed above, tall and proud and dark. The rains of spring normally came gently, bringing the prayed-for moisture to the crops of the farmers, but not tonight. This was the hard, noisy thunderstorm they expected in late summer. Already lighting flickered nearly constantly inside the cells, and Mamie shaded her eyes from it as she squinted into the twilight at the shape. "It is a man."

"No...not a man..." Holly tossed down her tools and hopped the little irrigation ditch, her blue cotton skirt fluttering as she vaulted over it. "A Kachina!"

"A Kachina?"

Holly ran toward the sandbar, stopping short where their meadow ended and the rock began. Mamie was at her side in moments. "He is a Kachina," Mamie gasped.

The figure crawling from the river was masked, with round goggle-like eyes and a rounded head that sloped to his shoulders. Water streamed from his clothing onto the sandbar.

"He looks weak." Holly stepped forward, the Kachina's blank stare turning to meet her.

"No, don't touch him," Mamie cautioned.

"He needs our help." Holly stalked carefully toward him, where the visitor had collapsed, rolling onto his side. His blank gaze turned up to her.

"What do you feel?"

Holly raised her hands toward him. "Injury... exhaustion... pain... cold." She bravely walked right up to the masked visitor, kneeling beside him. "He's weak..."

Mamie joined her cousin, watching as the Kachina pulled off his mask, revealing a young man underneath. He coughed and spat, river water dripping from his close-cut hair.

"The Kachinas are Chinese?"

"He's certainly not Hopi."

"Or even from the Pueblos."

The man tried to stand, and Holly took his arm and helped him up. "Thank you," he sputtered, still coughing.

Holly touched his face. "He's drained...there's barely anything left in him," she said, her fingertips against his temple. His dark eyes followed her.

"Really?" Mamie took the man's other hand and lead him toward the grassy meadow between the sandbank and the house. "You're shivering," she said, feeling his cold, clammy skin.

"I've been in the river a long time, trying to get to shore," he said, staggering forward, away from the river. He pulled his hands away and began undoing the buckles that held his uniform together. When he reached the meadow he pulled off the large blue breastplate and dropped it, and then began to unzip his jacket, fumbling with the pull. "That water is so cold."

"It's all snowmelt at this time...and there's a lot of it."

The cousins helped him from his jacket, a strange affair like no other jacket they had seen before. It was padded and armored, and full of straps and electronics. The right sleeve had been badly torn and was barely attached to the body. As they pulled it off of him, his shoulder and upper arm began to bleed from several ragged gashes.

Holly untied her cotton sash and wrapped it around his arm as a makeshift bandage. "Come into the house. This storm's about to hit." Already solitary oversized raindrops were beginning to strike around them.

The women helped him inside and onto a tired old couch. "Go get some towels so we can dry him off and start warming him up," Holly instructed Mamie as she pulled off the man's undershirt, torn and stained pink with watered-down blood. She winced, seeing the extent of the gashes in his side. "We'll have to get the rest of these clothes off of you. Then I can stop this bleeding." A bright flash of lightning filled the room.

"I understand."

Thunder shook the house. "That one was much closer!" Holly gasped. She started to undo his boots and tug them off of his feet, followed by his soggy socks, just as Mamie came back with a stack of towels and set them on the couch.

Holly fished out a large one and put it around the shaking man's shoulders. And then she pulled out a second large towel and put it into his hands. "If I step out for a moment, will you be able to take off the rest of your clothes and wrap that around you?"

Sato nodded.

"Wrap it low on the waist because I need to get to those cuts on your side."

"All right."

The women exited quickly through a door across the room, and he began to fight the buckle at his waist with trembling fingers. The shivering made it difficult. Another bright flash of lightning consumed the evening darkness, followed several moments later by another painfully loud rumble of thunder. With a breath of relief the buckle released and the pants dropped to the floor. And then he peeled off the long black leggings he wore underneath them, the wet spandex sticking to his skin. He grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his waist, biting his lip at the sight of fresh blood rising from the gashes and dripping lethargically into the roll of the towel. He grabbed a small towel and held it against his side.

"Ready?" called a voice behind him.

"Yes, I'm covered." The women came back in with a large first-aid kit in hand and sat him back down on the sofa.

"Time to work," said Holly, opening up the kit. "Any drug allergies or medical conditions I should know about?"

-o-o-o-o-o-

Continued in Chapter 3: Morning

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.


	3. Morning

Kachina

Chapter 3 – Morning

I think we found him," came Hawks' voice over the radio. "At least his suit."

"Good work," Trakker replied. And then, "His suit?"

"Yeah. It's hanging on a laundry line. There seems to be a house back there." Dusty answered.

"Laundry line?" asked Turner. "Where at?"

"Bottom of the canyon at a big bend in the river."

"I'll circle back."

Hayes brought Gator up to the sandbar, beaching it carefully, and the two agents leapt out. They trotted across the grass to the laundry line holding Sato's clothing. A small flock of sheep watched them with mild interest.

The jacket and pants were clipped to the wire. His undershirt, tights, and socks hung behind them. The boots were tipped up onto a pair of fence posts, presumably to drain and dry. The blue armor plate had been detached and hung separately from one of the laundry line supports.

"I'm switching on the camera in your mask, Dusty." Immediately Trakker's monitor filled with a view of the laundry line, the orange and tan uniform glowing in the early morning sunlight. "That's his all right."

"But no mask and no Bruce." The view moved around, taking in the settlement beneath the cliff. There was indeed a house there, and a hogan to one side of the large sheep-cropped meadow. There were pens for a few farm animals and well-used truck occupying a weathered garage. Chickens ran about pecking along a road that appeared to lead up and out of the canyon.

"I don't see his mask at all."

Hawks spoke up. "I'm going to look up at the house. Chances are he's in there." And with that he cantered up the flagstone path to the ranch-style house at the end of the shaggy lawn. Hayes and Trakker watched as he peered into windows, moving along the face of the house. And then he paused longer in front of one large window and began chuckling. "I'd like to volunteer to be the next one shot down by VENOM," Hawks grinned.

"Huh?"

"I found him."

Hayes bounded to the window and peered in beside him, the view suddenly explaining Hawks' comment.

The room beyond was a bedroom, lit softly by the morning light behind them. A large bed constructed of rough cottonwood timbers faced the window. Sato lay asleep in the middle of the bed. His right arm, shoulder, and chest, wrapped up in cloth bandages, lay free of the colorful handmade quilt covering the rest of his body...and his companions. Curled up affectionately at each side slept an Indian woman with long black hair and pale brown skin.

"I'd like to get shot down too, please" laughed Hayes.

"What's going on?" asked Turner.

"Penetrator! On!" Hawks blurred and he stepped effortlessly through the wall and window into the bedroom, solidifying again. He turned and slid open the window bolt, opening the unscreened window to the other agent.

The click of the bolt and the creak of the window stirred the three sleepers. Sato's eyes opened and began to focus on the man approaching the end of the bed.

"Bruce, we found you."

"Buddie?"

One of the women sighed and stretched her arm across Sato's bandaged chest, cuddling tightly against him.

"Yeah." He scanned the room, finding Sato's mask sitting atop a dresser, half covered by a bath towel.

"It's burned out," Sato volunteered, noticing Hawks' glance. "I'm not sure if you got any of my transmissions."

"We got a few, and one that said you were okay, and that was the last we heard from you."

The other woman woke, lifting herself sleepily on her elbows, her face framed by a halo of rumpled hair. "You're awake," she said softly. "How 'ya feeling?" And then she caught sight Hawks standing at the end of the bed. A small shriek woke the other woman, who bolted upright, shrieking herself at seeing the two masked men close by, one at the foot of the bed and the other leaning in through the open window.

"More Kachinas!" The first buried her face under the quilt and the second kept gasping.

"It's okay. It's okay" said Hawks, raising his hands in a calming gesture. "Bruce. Tell them it's all right."

Sato raised his unbandaged arm. "Don't worry. They're friends of mine. I know these men." He slid back to rest higher against the pillows.

The two peered out timidly.

"Ask him if he's okay. He's bandaged," came Trakker's voice over the radio.

"Matt wants to know how you are," Hayes asked, climbing in through the window.

The first woman slunk from the bed, pulling a terry bathrobe off a nearby hook and over her teal-blue camisole and pajama pants.

"I'm okay. A bit bruised though." And then he looked down at his partially mummified upper body. "Okay. A lot bruised."

Hawks crossed around to the newly vacated side of the bed.

"I'll call in Julio," said Trakker. "I'll get Gator's coordinates and bring him in myself."

Hawks had taken the bandaged arm, and was noting the dried blood where he pulled the cloth back. "Yeah. Good idea. Looks like he could be pretty cut up under these bandages."

Sato was clenching his teeth. "Something unfriendly caught me in the river."

Hayes came over and peered closely so Trakker could see. "She sewed me back together," Bruce offered, gesturing at the woman in the yellow nightgown with a nod of his head.

The indicated woman, now sitting, spoke up. "He has a number of lacerations to his upper arm and side that needed stitches." She pulled back the quilt, revealing that the bandages wrapped Sato's torso down to the waist of a pair of pink plaid pajama bottoms. "He washed up from the river last night, at the start of that big storm. He was bleeding badly and hypothermic." She pulled the quilt back over Sato. "His chi was completely drained too."

"Holly, no," cautioned the woman in the robe.

"His what?" Hayes questioned.

"His life energy."

"There's a name for it?" All the agents knew that their masks connected to their mind and their own energy. That was how they worked—how the powers were commanded. And when the powers were used for too long or for too intense a purpose, the mask began to draw heavily on the wearer just before it burned out. The wearer would be left weak for several days and enduring a week-long headache. Hawks knew this better than any of them; of all the team's masks, Penetrator easily consumed the most energy. "Chi, eh?" Hayes nodded thoughtfully. "Well I can see how that happened. Last I saw of Bruce he was trying to put that cliff back into place."

Sato chuckled. "I couldn't."

The woman in the robe opened the bedroom door. "I'll go make some coffee," she said, excusing herself.

"I'll help!" blurted the other, and she darted after, her pale yellow nightdress fluttering. The door shut tightly behind her.

Hayes pulled off his mask and set it over the bedpost so the camera would still catch the scene. Hawks took off his own mask and sat on the bed. "So Bruce, who are they?"

"Holly and Mamie Ramirez. They're Navajo."

"They're pretty."

"Like she said, I washed up here last night. Holly is a nurse at her uncle's clinic in town, but some kind of natural healer too."

"Seems like you ended up in the right place then. They live here I take it."

Sato nodded.

"And here we thought we'd find you tucked under an overhang or cuddled up with a coyote. You got pretty lucky," teased Hayes, nudging Bruce's good arm.

"He's blushing," Hawks grinned just as his cellphone began to ring.

"Let me talk to Bruce," came Trakker's voice over the line.

Hawks obliged, pushed the speaker button, and handed the phone to Sato, who took it awkwardly in his left hand. "Good morning."

"Sleep well?"

"When I could." And then his cheeks reddened again, suddenly realizing how the statement could be interpreted.

"He's blushing again," grinned Hayes.

Hawks gave him a thumbs-up, which made him blush even more.

"I've already called in Julio and I'll bring him there as quickly as I can. I'm sure he'll want to look you over himself."

"Nothing's broken. I just hurt."

"Can you walk?"

"Slowly."

"Good. Call me if anything changes."

"All right."

"We should be there in a couple of hours, so take care of yourself until then."

"I have plenty of nurses and a comfortable bed. I'm sure I'll be fine." They said their goodbyes and Sato closed the phone and passed it back to Hawks. And then he settled back against the pillows again, shut his eyes, and drew the quilt up to his neck. "It's nice to be warm again. I was so cold when I got out of the river. I shivered for an hour. It made it hard for Holly to put those stitches in."

"Spring runoff. Nothing but melted snow in that river."

"That's what they said too. Did Thunderhawk survive?"

Hawks shook his head. "It's part of the landscape now, lying beneath that cliff, which is now lying in the river. We're not even going to try to salvage it. You're just lucky you weren't in it."

Sato's hand tightened into a fist. "I couldn't avoid that missile."

"Hey, don't beat yourself up over it. I don't even think Brad could have dodged it. VENOM seems to have upgraded some of their weapons systems." He patted Sato on the uninjured shoulder.

"But on the positive side, we got Rax."

"Got him?" His eyes reopened at the news.

"He's already making some new friends down at the FBI office in Phoenix."

"Excellent."

"Just after we got that last message from you, Matt and Gloria managed to grab him."

Hayes laughed. "He threw a punch at Gloria, and well...let's just say he's had his first lesson in Kung-fu."

"I've never seen her let loose like that. She was either vengeful over VENOM trying to kill you, or she had PMS."

They laughed together, and then Bruce groaned. "Laughing hurts."

The sound of Condor's rotor picked up their heads. "That'd be Brad."

Hayes clambered back out the window. "I suppose I should learn where the doors are in this place," he grinned and ran out to meet Turner.

Gracefully Condor lighted in the meadow close to the house. Turner shut down the engine and hopped off. "I found you," he said, taking Hayes' wrist in greeting. "Now tell me what's going on. I've only gotten bits and pieces of the story." He tugged off his goggle-eyed helmet and tucked it under his arm.

"Well, see those women on the porch there?"

Mamie and Holly stood on the wide deck encircling the house, having emerged on hearing the noise of Condor's landing.

"Well when we got here, we found Bruce asleep in bed with them."

Turner raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" And then he chuckled to himself. "Well that explains you two offering to get shot down."

"He got pretty beat up by the river last night, but managed to land here, about where Gator's parked." He gestured back at the sandbar. "The lady in the yellow nightdress is a nurse, so she bandaged him up."

Hawks waved to Mamie and Holly reassuringly, Turner doing the same.

Shyly they waved back.

"Nice girls," Brad mused.

"Navaho apparently. He was half-drowned and half-frozen too. I'm guessing that's why they were sleeping with him, trying to keep him warm."

"Of course that's why." Turner walked over to where Bruce's clothing was clipped to the line. He took the arm of the jacket, looking closely at the shredded fabric. "Did you tell him we got Rax?"

"Just did. He was glad to hear it." Hayes looked around the sandstone amphitheater that the homestead occupied, the sun already noticeably higher in the sky than when they had first arrived. The canyon walls glowed a warm rusty tan, full of life and ancient dreams. "C'mon. I'll take you inside."

Half an hour later, four agents and two women sat tightly around the small dining table, a feast of pork chops, fried potatoes, scrambled eggs, and hot coffee spread out before them. The women had dressed: Holly in a blue velveteen blouse and a colorful crinkled skirt, Mamie in jeans and cowboy boots. Sato sat at the head of the table, wrapped in the pink plaid flannel pajamas and hooded bathrobe loaned by the women. Holly and Mamie doted on him, cutting up his pork chop and pouring his coffee, even bringing him a glass of orange juice squeezed from the couple oranges they had. Eating left handed was not as much of a challenge as expected.

"This is really nice of you," Turner thanked their hosts.

"Yes, thank you," joined in Hayes, helping himself to another serving of potatoes. "We were up at first light to look for Bruce and we didn't get breakfast."

"I had a granola bar," Turner laughed.

"Me too. We eat a lot of them, don't we?" Hayes mused.

"Standard equipment on the vehicles." Hawks added and reached for the coffee pot. It was true. There was a compartment in each vehicle full of bottled water, packages of peanuts, and the ubiquitous granola bars, something to keep them going when too busy for meals while on missions. He filled up the cups around the table and helped himself to another pork chop.

"Our boss is coming for us soon, and he's bringing our doctor with him," Sato told Mamie and Holly. "We'll be leaving then, and so you can get back to your usual routine."

"Oh..." said Holly, seeming a bit disappointed.

"But you've only just got here. It's been nice having some company."

"You've been very good to us, especially Bruce here, but we've got business to get back to, and I'm sure you do too," explained Hawks.

"I'll bet they were especially good to Bruce," Turner mumbled to Hayes, who stifled a snicker and nudged Turner to be quiet.

Mamie shook her head. "I know things must be rather dull here, compared to...whatever it is you Kachinas do. But sometimes dull is nice, and you're welcome to enjoy it."

"I'm not done with Mr. Bruce yet, anyway,"said Holly, and then she turned to her cousin. "I want to take him to the hogan and finish up his energy work."

Sato looked at her questioningly, the others as well.

She put her hand on Sato's shoulder. "Don't worry. It won't take long and it won't hurt at all. We'll go as soon as you're done with breakfast.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Continued in Chapter 4: The Hogan

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.


	4. The Hogan

Kachina

Chapter 4 – The Hogan

The sound of another helicopter, this one much larger than Condor, brought everyone out of the house just in time to see it land. Trakker and Lopez emerged, Lopez carrying an oversized doctor's bag.

"Eototo," Mamie whispered to herself.

Turner introduced Mamie to them as they came up to the deck. "Matt, this is Mamie Ramirez. She and her cousin are the ones that helped Bruce out."

Matt extended his hand cordially and Mamie took it. "Ms. Ramirez, I cannot thank you enough. Bruce is very important to us."

"Anyone would have done the same," she replied modestly. "He just happened to escape the river here."

"Of course. I'd like to see him right away. I've brought our doctor."

"He's with Holly over there." She pointed across the way to the hogan. "I'll let her know you're here. I'm not sure if she's done yet."

"Done?"

Mamie glanced at the hogan evasively. "Holly wants to talk to you about something. She says it's important. But it's best not to disturb her right now."

"I see."

And then she looked at Lopez and down at his bag. "Please, come with me, but keep quiet."

Lopez looked to Trakker, who nodded at him.

"Lead on," the doctor said cheerily, and Mamie took him toward the hogan.

Formalities taken care of, the other agents gathered around Trakker. "How's he doing?" he asked anxiously.

"He's out of bed but moving like an old man, and he's not using his right arm either. But otherwise pretty good."

Hayes shook his head, not in agreement with Hawks. "I think it's more serious than that."

"Oh?"

"He's not talking in riddles any more and he's making perfect sense for once. I'm sure that means he's dying."

The others groaned while Hayes grinned.

Trakker turned back toward the hogan, where Lopez and Mamie were just entering. "So what's with keeping him over there?"

"The other woman, Holly, Mamie's cousin, she's some kind of healer."

"I thought you said she was a nurse at a relative's clinic."

"That too."

"The medicine woman."

"Something like that. After breakfast she took Bruce over there for something she called 'energy work.' Not sure exactly though. She seemed worried about his chi."

"I see."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Lopez sat beside Mamie in the hogan, watching her cousin work. The house was roomy inside. Windows curtained with gauze let in plenty of light from four sides. Two sides held book cases crammed with books, ceremonial paraphernalia, and plain old miscellaneous. The East side held the door and the last a desk.

In the center of the room stood a raised table draped with heavy blankets. Sato lay atop the table, a small pillow beneath his head with another blanket covering him from the chin down. His eyes were closed and he appeared as if asleep. Holly hovered over him, her hands placed delicately atop his chest. Sometimes she would move and her hands would float across him, coming to rest elsewhere, often his forehead.

The only sound in the room was the soft hum of an oscillating fan circulating the air. All else was still and comfortingly quiet. Lopez settled back into his chair and watched with interest, but also with concern for his patient. Trakker had given him some idea of Sato's condition. He began to review the mental list of things to check that he had formed on the helicopter flight. Sato had been shot down, been shot at, avoided falling rock, escaped a falling cliff, escaped drowning, battled hypothermia, and finally survived being gashed by what was probably a junked car or abandoned mining equipment. It was no surprise the others had nicknamed him "Lucky."

After a while, he felt someone nudging him and he realized that he had fallen asleep. Holly was shaking his arm gently. "I'm sorry," Lopez apologized. "It was so peaceful here I nodded off." She only smiled at him.

"At least you didn't start snoring," said Sato. He was now sitting up on the table, the blanket draped around his shoulders. Mamie was gone.

"Bruce!" Lopez rose and went to him. "How are you feeling?"

"Pretty good, considering what happened to me last night."

"So I'm told." He turned to Holly, who was rolling her sleeves back into place. "May I examine him here?"

"Of course. I can give you a hand if you need." She went to the desk and began putting her silver jewelry back on.

"Thank you. I might need an extra hand," he said gratefully. "Shirt off," Lopez then ordered Sato, trying hard not find the pink pajamas too amusing.

Sato shed the blanket and took off the pajama top. Lopez gently pushed him onto his left side.

Holly came to the table and took Bruce's hand as the doctor began his work. "You should be feeling much better now," she said in a whisper to the patient, her face close to his.

Sato smiled. "I feel good. The headache is gone." He squeezed her hand. "Thank you for whatever it is you did."

She smiled back and squeezed his hand in return. "Not much. Just a little something to help with your energy levels. You know, I've never had a Chinese patient before."

"I'm actually Japanese-American."

"Oops!" she giggled. "Well if it's any consolation, I get mistaken for Apache or Pueblo Indian all the time."

"Owww..." he suddenly moaned as Lopez found a tender spot on his side.

Holly straightened to see what had caused the pain. Lopez had cut open the bandages around Sato's waist and was prodding him there. "Sorry Bruce. Your body is hiding the damage that's been done." He continued to work, Holly watching him, but still holding Sato's hand reassuringly. "You have a nice hand for stitches," Lopez complimented her. "Even on a messy cut like this."

"Thank you."

"Where did you train, if I may ask? I'll have to hire my next nurse from there."

"I got my BSN from Chamberlain at the Phoenix branch, and then spent two more years in Sedona."

"Sedona?"

"My New Age mumbo-jumbo training," she blushed.

He grinned at her. "You don't have to deprecate it for my sake. I've seen too much good come out of New Age medicine to dismiss it all as quackery."

"My uncle puts up with it, and some of the Dine medicine men around here do. My uncle's a doctor and has a clinic in town. He's the one who put me through school."

"Mamie's father, right?"

"Yes. Medicine runs in our family. Our grandfather came here forty years ago from Spain. He had heard of the Spanish oppression and conquest of the tribes in this area, and of their troubles in modern times. So one day he just closed up his practice in Zaragoza and came here.

"Interesting."

For the next half hour, Sato lay on the table enduring the poking and prodding and further treatment as Lopez and Holly went over him what seemed like inch by inch. Worse yet was the non-stop medical chatter and deliberation, as well as a painful tetanus shot. It made him long for the tranquil, relaxed state Holly had him in earlier, simply lying quietly with his mind floating, her light touch the only thing keeping him attached to reality.

Eventually the two decided there was nothing more they could do and decided to just let him rest. "Matt's eager to see you," Lopez said. "Want me to call him in?"

"I feel strong enough to leave. Would you help me outside?"

"Of course." They helped him first to sit, and then off of the table and to his feet. Holly pushed an old pair of sandals onto Bruce's feet and opened the door for the men, and the three made their way back toward the house.

Trakker, Turner, and Hayes were indulging in the cool shadow of one of the large cottonwood trees that shaded the house. Hawks and Mamie stood in the middle of the meadow talking.

"Bruce!" Trakker called and rose from the stump he had parked on and walked quickly to his downed agent. "Good to see you alive and well," he said, his voice wavering every so slightly. "I saw what happened to your jacket, and the cuts in the breastplate." He reached out, placing his hand against Sato's jawline.

"I think I'm in much better shape than my jacket right now."

"You'll still need to take it easy," Lopez cautioned.

"Do we need to take him to a hospital?" Trakker asked.

The doctor shook his head. "Nope. He just needs lots of rest. And you're putting him on disability for three weeks."

"Disability?" Sato moped.

"No stunts. No running. Very light exercise."

"Gloria will miss her favorite punching bag at the gym."

The others laughed.

Holly stepped in. "Sir, may I have a word with you?" she asked of Trakker. "It's something that might be of concern regarding your men." Her face was serious.

Matt's smile dissolved. "All right."

She looked about. "Could we discuss this somewhere private? The hogan perhaps? It's sort of my office."

"Certainly."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Inside the hogan, she poured two cups of coffee from a thermos and handed one to Trakker. "Cream or sugar?"

"Just black."

Trakker wandered silently about the hogan, sipping the coffee and taking in the house's contents. After a loop in silence, he turned to Holly, who had taken a seat at her desk. "So what's on your mind?"

"When the Kachina came to us last night, he was wounded and hypothermic." She hesitated. "There was something else too."

"What was that?"

"His chi, his life energy, it was nearly completely drained. He was so weak he could barely walk."

Trakker sighed. "Yes. An unfortunate side-effect of our work."

Holly gave him a look of concern.

"The helmets we wear, they have powers. And if the powers are overtaxed that's what happens. It takes a while to recover from it to, but it's a risk we take." Trakker sat down on one of the benches beneath a window.

"He's recovered already. I was able to restore him, to set his energy back in order. Have you ever heard the term chakra?"

"I have. An energy center in the body."

Holly looked surprised. "Then you know something of what I'm talking about."

"I suppose I don't look like the type who would."

"Well, no. Frankly, we're even suspicious of anyone around here who wears a suit," she admitted.

Trakker laughed. "Perhaps if you had a some pink plaid pajamas I could wear..."

Holly burst out mirthfully. "I could go up to Third Mesa and get you a kilt from one of the dancers." And suddenly the stiffness and wariness and formality was gone in shared laughter. She sat down next to Trakker.

"So tell me, you said you were able to restore him. His chi is back to normal levels?"

"Yes. Chakras all realigned and balanced "

"Would you be able to do that with any of us? Should the same thing happen to another of my men?"

"I would."

Trakker leaned back and looked about the hogan again. "Then perhaps you'll be seeing a bit more of us Kachinas."

"Eototo, I would be honored." And then she leaned in closely to him. "Just don't tell them up on the Hopi Reservation."

-o-o-o-o-o-

The team gathered for goodbyes, ready to take their leave of the sleepy little farm, a world apart from their lives. Sato had his helmet tucked beneath his arm—he had been examining it to see what damage had been done between the burnout and the rough time in the river.

Matt stood at the head of the group and addressed their hostesses. "Ladies. You've done us a great service and I am highly indebted to you. If there is anything you could use...anything you need...please ask. If you simply need money, just say so."

The women blinked at Trakker, astounded that someone was making such a generous offer. Had they heard him right?

"There...there is something," Mamie said bashfully. Holly looked over at her, a puzzled expression on her face.

"Please ask." Trakker flashed her his benevolent smile.

"My truck needs a new fuel pump. I can install it myself, but I don't have the money to buy it."

"A fuel pump?"

She nodded. "For that truck over there." She pointed to the old pickup under the weathered shed. "If that's not appropriate to ask for, please forget I said it."

Trakker nodded at Hawks. "Buddie."

Hawks left the group, walking over to the indicated vehicle, rolling up his sleeves as he went.

Trakker smiled again. "It's very appropriate, if that would help you out."

"It would very much. I use that truck to get into town, and to take Holly to work."

"Buddie will take care of it. He's good with cars." And then he turned to Holly. "Ms. Ramirez...Holly...Is there anything you would like? I'm grateful for the information that you shared with me."

She shook her head. "My place in life is to help people. I do what I can."

"You're a healthcare professional. Tell me at least what you charge."

She drew herself up proudly. "Things are probably very different here from where you live. People pay me what they can afford. Sometimes it's money. Sometimes it's a sheep. Sometimes a chicken. Sometimes it a sack of corn. If you feel you need to pay me, you can make a contribution to my uncle's clinic."

"All right. I'll do that." Trakker shook the hands of the two women. "It's been a pleasure meeting you. Thank you for all your hospitality and your kindness."

"And breakfast," jumped in Hayes.

Goodbyes said, they moved toward the vehicles, loading Sato into the helicopter with great care. Mamie gathered Sato's clothes from the laundry line, folded them neatly into a pile, and set them in the helicopter beside him. Hawks ran back over and caught Trakker by the arm, drawing him aside and speaking privately with him. Again Trakker nodded.

Hawks ran back to the women, where they now stood watching the departure from the deck. "I'll be back in three days with a new fuel pump for you."

Hearing this, Mamie's eyes were alight with joy. "Thank you so much, Buddie."

"See you soon then." And with a big wave back to the house, he caught up to Hayes at the riverbank. Gator took them away, following the cold river downstream once again.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Continued in Chapter 5: Return of the Kachinas

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.


	5. Return of the Kachinas

Kachina

Chapter 5 – Return of the Kachinas

Three days later, two vehicles came down the dusty road leading to the farm, a small truck and a plain looking sedan. Hawks was back as promised. Mamie came out of the barn to meet him, wiping her hands on an old towel. The vehicles stopped and Hawks and Sato got out.

"Bruce, how are you feeling?"

"Almost as good as new. And I've brought back your pajamas too. Pink just is not my color." He handed Mamie a soft bundle wrapped in a launderer's plastic bag.

"Your boss, the blonde guy...yesterday my father called from the clinic and said that an anonymous donor deposited five thousand dollars into the clinic's bank account. Why so much? He's never even been there."

"He's a generous guy. I guess he felt it was worthwhile. And speaking of worthwhile, I've got that fuel pump for you."

Her eyes lit up again. "Thank you so much. This means so much to me." And suddenly her calm stand-offishness disappeared and she grabbed him in a tight hug and kissed him quickly on the cheek.

"Looks like it's your turn to blush," Sato laughed.

"I've got it for you, but unfortunately it's still attached to this truck still." He gestured with his thumb back at the vehicle he'd driven up in—a modest but brand-new Chevy pickup, painted a glossy burnt orange with yellow detailing, still wearing it's dealer's plates and a temporary license.

"But that truck is new. Will the pump work in mine? Wait. I don't understand. Why..."

"It won't work." Hawks picked up her hand and pressed a key into it. "So you'll have to use this truck instead."

She stared, unsure of what he was saying.

"You needed a new fuel pump, but when I looked things over, I could see that there was a lot more than a fuel pump that needed replacing. The boss told me to just replace the truck."

"But...I can't. No." She stood there gaping. "This is too much."

"Well then. You'll just have to figure out how to make the new fuel pump work in that old truck of yours," Sato smiled craftily.

"We're going to leave it here, so take your time with that. It's all paid for, and the insurance is paid up on it for three years."

Mamie continued to stand gaping, her mind numb to the thought that anyone could be that generous. First there had been the news from the clinic, and now this. "You're serious? You've brought me a new truck."

"Sure did. I hope you like the color. I picked it out myself."

Tears began to fall from her eyes, which she wiped away with the towel in her hands. "I can't believe this," she sputtered. "I've needed a new truck for years."

"And now you've got one."

Overcome by the emotion of the moment, she grabbed Hawks in a big hug, and then released him and wrapped her arms around Sato for the same.

"Ow..." Sato whimpered as she squeezed him.

"Oh Bruce, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hug you so tightly."

"I'm all right," he reassured her.

"Bruce, Buddie, I hope you'll come to see us again sometime."

"I'm sure we'll be seeing you again. We've been told we have to come see Holly whenever we get a burnout."

"That's what Holly told me. That she had worked out some kind of deal with your boss."

Hawks put his arm around Sato's shoulder. "Bruce and I seem to be the most prone to burning out, so you'll probably see us the most."

"But not just for that. You can come here anytime you want, whether or not it's for treatment." She paused, as if looking for something to stall them with. "Can I offer you some coffee or a cold drink now?"

"Bruce, I don't have anywhere to go right now. Do you?"

Sato shook his head. "The bird always flies south in the fall, but lingers until the first frost."

"Yeah, whatever." He turned to Mamie again. "I think we'd like a drink."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Hawks and Sato stood before the long display cases, row upon row of demi-gods facing them, most frozen in dancing positions. "So many..." Sato whispered. "I had no idea there were so many of us."

"Says here in the guidebook that there are about 250 to 300 recognized Kachinas."

The two agents had made a detour to the Museum of Northern Arizona in Flagstaff, Mamie having mentioned a large display of Kachina dolls there. Silently, almost reverently, they moved along the glass, staring in and trying to absorb the melange of wood and paint and feathers.

"I suppose we are like them," Hawks philosophized. "The masks turn the dancer into the divine, just like ours give us super-human powers. We're more than men but less than gods."

"That one looks a lot like Matt's Ultraflash mask," Sato said, pointing out a smaller figure on an upper tier. "Maasaw..." he read.

"Hmmm...Mamie called him Eototo, though she never saw him in a mask. Hey, these guys look kinda like you." He crouched down to study a group of fairly plain characters, all painted a dull orange or rusty brown.

"They look a little less bandaged than I do."

The two stopped in the museum gift shop on the way out, and Hawks found his attention drawn to one of the Kachina dolls for sale in a large glass case. "May I see that one?" he asked the shop attendant behind the counter.

"Certainly, sir." And she tucked her grey hair behind her ear and unlocked the case. "This is Sowi-Ingwa, the Hopi deer Kachina," she explained, setting the doll onto the counter for Hawks to examine. "He was carved by a local artist right here in Flagstaff." The body appeared typical of the other dancing dolls, dressed in a knee-length white kilt and adorned with ceremonial decorations. The mask, painted pale green, had a short snout and a thick ruff of green leaves about its lower edge. Stylistic antlers branched from the top of the mask.

"I see a certain resemblance," commented Bruce, who had come over to see what Hawks was looking at.

"Do you collect Kachina dolls, sir?"

Hawks shook his head. "Nope, but this guy reminds me of someone I know."

The clerk smiled. Tourists always said odd things. And her smile turned from one of amusement to one of delight when Hawks pulled his wallet from his hip pocket and fished out a credit card.

She carefully packed up the doll into tissue paper and a sturdy box and then wrote up the bill of sale. "Now his certificate of authenticity is in the bag there, and I've included some literature on Kachinas and a museum brochure as well," she said sweetly, as she passed the doll back to him. "Thank you for supporting the museum. Maybe you will become a collector yourself."

He smiled and took his purchase from her. "Let's go home, little brother," he said affectionately to the package.

"I suppose I feel something of a kinship with them myself, now," said Sato as they got into the sedan in the museum parking lot. They followed the streets to the interstate and left the city behind. But as he drove, Sato found his gaze repeatedly flitting to the mirrors, looking back to the San Francisco Peaks above the city. The informational sign in the museum had named the snow-tipped mountains as the home of the Hopi Kachinas. The feeling that he should visit sometime filled his head.

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.


	6. Kachina Commentary

Kachina – Commentary

-o-o-o-o-o-

I never expected this piece to end up quite as long or quite as involved, but it seemed that for every scene I wrote, another one was needed. Every time I felt like it was nearing completion, I reread it and found that I needed to connect a few more dots. The first scene of chapter three was the first one written, and all the other chapters served to either explain it, defend it, or conclude it; particularly regarding the characters of Holly and Mamie.

But what a beautiful process it was, and what a lot of research and reading I did for this fic as well, mostly regarding the Hopi and Navajo religions and the land itself. And it gave me an excuse to read parts of one of my favorite books again: "Where the Rain Children Sleep: A Sacred Geography of the Colorado Plateau" by Michael Englehard. I lose myself in the canyons of the Southwest whenever I pick it up.

I had two focuses for the piece. First, I wanted to follow the agents after a mission, looking at the "clean-up process," which in this case centered on the search for and rescue of a downed agent. And then there was the human interest factor as well, seeing the agents in more relaxed situations, being more of themselves once the mission was over and the heroics were done. I love the interaction of the six agents and the two women, on so many different levels. The scene with Julio, Holly, and Bruce in the hogan is a good example. And I can't tell you how tempting it was to put a little more into the relationship between Buddie and Mamie, but I held back. It's not a romance piece.

The second focus was to indulge my long time fascination with the masks themselves, specifically how their powers were tied to their wearer. Watching Gloria's mask burnout in Episode 14: "Assault on Liberty" was a major inspiration for this story. In the same episode, Buddie expressed concern about his own mask burning out. Why was it so difficult for her to maintain the aura? Why did she collapse afterward? I don't collapse when the batteries in my flashlight die, so a mask must be much more than battery operated. And how does an agent control how and where the masks powers operate with a simple activation command?

All together I wanted it to be an engaging piece with a good feeling to it, set in a beautiful Colorado Plateau landscape. I hope you enjoyed it.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Notes on the Southwestern terms and setting:

Regarding the title of the story...the Kachinas (Katsinam) are demi-gods central to the belief systems of several Pueblo cultures in the Southwestern states, most notably the Hopi and the Zuni They are spiritual beings assigned various responsibilities and powers. Eototo is their chief. Kachina dancers, the costumed men portraying the Kachinas in religious ceremonies, are considered divine when in the guise of the Kachina spirits.

The Navajo (Dine) do not follow the Kachina religion, but naturally Holly and Mamie would know what they are, which is why there is a moment of surprise and jest when Bruce removes his helmet. It's obvious he is neither a demi-god or a dancer, but by calling him such, it gives them a term they can work with to define him and the subsequent mysterious visitors.

Maasaw is actually an important Hopi god rather than a Kachina. He is the caretaker of the present world (the Fourth World) as well as the god of the dead and of metamorphosis. He appears as either a handsome man or a hideous skeletal figure depending on the legend, and there a lot of legends involving him. He appears frequently in both ancient and modern Hopi art, and his representation in his corpse-like form does bear an uncanny resemblance to Matt's Ultraflash mask.

Third Mesa is one of the three mesas the Hopi tribe consider the heart of their homeland, and a decorated white kilt is a traditional garment worn by many of the male Kachinas. The velveteen blouses, long skirts, and silver jewelry that Holly wears is typical traditional dress for a Navajo woman. A hogan is the traditional octagonal house of the Navajo, constructed of earth, wood, and modern materials. While not as commonly used as residential structures these days, they are frequently used as ceremonial structures.

Navajo spirituality revolves around a complicated set of ceremonies performed by medicine men (hatalii), which is why Holly's gift as an energy healer holds about as much sway with her own people as well as Western culture. The ceremonies conducted by the medicine men are for the restoration of balance, health, and harmony, which essentially is what she works toward, just in a different way.

Four sacred mountains form the boundaries of the Navajo nation, which will give the reader a better idea as to the setting of this story: Mount Taylor in New Mexico, Hesperus Mountain in Colorado, the San Francisco Peaks in Arizona, and Blanca Peak in Colorado. The San Francisco peaks are particularly sacred to the Hopi, who consider them the home of the Kachinas from late July until the winter solstice.

The final scene of the story, in which Buddie and Bruce visit the museum, is very telling of the whole experience and their feelings about being associated with the mythical beings. The Museum of Northern Arizona does exist and you can go there. As a side note, Buddie's purchase in the gift shop would not have been a cheap one. Handmade Kachina dolls usually cost in the hundreds if not thousands of dollars.

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.


End file.
